Road Trip
by JazzyDashy
Summary: Claire Farron and Hope Estheim take a weekend away to see her sister up the coast - a relaxing break between professional friends. If someone could pass the message along to their raging libido's, that'd be just great. - NSFW Hopurai for lots of unresolved sexual tension (that later gets resolved.)


_**Road Trip**_

by **Smutty Circus**

* * *

It was supposed to be so _easy_ , he thought, licking dry lips and checking the dashboard again. Inches of pale skin teased the edge of his sight, leading Hope's mind to wander. Not at all what he was expecting. But then Claire Farron had always been so stoic and unflappable, so professional in her approach to life. Even when she wasn't on duty, he rarely saw her out of her Guardian Corp uniform. Not that he expected her to wear _that_ while she was taking a long weekend to visit her sister, but still…

He never would have expected this, though. Not from Claire, who locked her front door and strode down her garden path in little more than a button-up shirt, tiny shorts and sandals. Hope would have never guessed she even _had_ such relaxing clothes, staring as she slung her rucksack into his back seat and slid into the passenger side with such fluid grace.

"All ready," she said, pushing black sunglasses over her nose. "You know where Serah lives, right?"

He realised he was _still_ staring, having never seen so much of Claire "Lightning" Farron before. And he'd known her quite a long time, really.

"Yeah, sure," he nodded, pulling the handbrake off and indicating away from the curb. He was privately congratulating himself for keeping his voice level. Even her rosy hair seemed more casual – a tousled length that fell over one shoulder and dusted across her sleeveless shirt. Brushing the soft, pale curves of her cleavage.

He could do this, he thought, driving towards the coast. It was just Claire, he told himself. Stoic, dependable, admirable Claire. A weekend away at Serah and Snow's was a good chance to catch up with the couple, and before long they'd all be back to their normal routines. He could already see her striding down the high street in her Guardian Corp uniform.

Without a word, Claire leaned her chair back and kicked off her sandals, resting her feet against the dashboard and stretching out like a cat in the sun. Hope was sure that sitting there, she was more bare than she was dressed. And a three hour drive suddenly felt like it was going to take all day.

He wasn't wrong. He rarely was, really. Leaving the highway and cruising along the coast, Hope was sure they'd have spent the time chatting idly about everything they were going to do, or their respective works. Something. Anything. Claire may have had a reputation for being an unflappable officer, but they'd never had any problem with communicating. Hell, he counted himself among her small circle of friends, ever since they met years ago outside the Academy. And he always thought of her as the sort of woman you looked towards in a crisis. She always had that leadership quality to her.

And now his thoughts were steadily nosediving as she dozed in the seat beside him. Every glance he stole while he scanned the road left him wanting to linger on her pale skin and lean muscles. He liked her, he had long admired her. And now he was idly wondering how soft and smooth her taut stomach was to touch, at the warmth that would radiate from it. Of how supple her long legs were, and how his fingers could feel steel muscles beneath the surface.

The desire to _touch her_ bubbled up from within, quick and hot, a wanton need from deep down. To let himself lift the hem of her tiny cargo shorts. Trace her lips, soft and warm and delightfully damp, and then reaching into her wet core. Hot and slick and tight, leaving her purring in the passenger seat and gently shaking her legs-

Hope shook his head, lifting a bottle of cold water and swallowing. The sudden chill burned and brought him back to reality and he hesitated to put it back just yet. Reality was good, he thought. It was _safe_. She was his friend, for Goddess sake.

Claire's thoughts had abandoned reality from the moment she slid into his seat, feeling the chill of leather on the backs of her legs. She almost never wore anything so civilian and small, but she couldn't deny – she felt cute. She felt sexy. Then the heat of Hope's sun-warmed dashboard beneath her bare feet left her feeling nice and relaxed. After all, it was a weekend away up the coast, spending time with her sister (and her dope of a fiancé) would be good. The weather was clear and she was enjoying her present company.

She was really enjoying it, even. Claire, "Lightning" to her co-workers, enjoyed having a tightly-knit circle of friends. Fang and Vanille together were loud enough to make up for a dozen obnoxious acquaintances, which made her appreciate Hope all the more. Quiet and clever; that was her image of him. A workaholic who she never spied out of his Academy uniform, often bumping into him at the local café where he'd be ordering some take away cup, before sitting down to join her instead. She found he had a sceptical mind, applying different perspectives to new problems – a refreshing change from Fang's "Just skewer it" attitude, or Vanille's perpetual optimism.

He was a perfect choice, she had thought. She couldn't have invited one of the girl's without offering to both, and a road trip with the two Pulsian's was bound to end with a delay and a headache. Hope was sure to be a safer bet – a pit stop here and there for take-out, idle conversations about nothing at all, and he was sue to counter Snow's boasting ways.

But after knowing him in nothing but that strict Academy uniform, Claire wasn't prepared for how striking he came across in a pair of jeans and a tee. It was enough to make her do a double take at first. And then another. Then small, furtive glances from behind her sunglasses. She always found his uniform to be crisp and smart – but now it seemed like it wasn't doing him much justice.

'Vanille's right,' she thought, leaning back and pretending to doze. 'That bright tie of his really is distracting.' Claire spied behind her glasses as he swallowed another mouthful of water, watching his Adam's apple bob before he licked his lips. It felt nice, she thought, relaxing here in his passenger seat. Even if they were just on a friendly trip, it was easy to imagine it as more.

Surprisingly easy, even. Fang would have called it a "woman's right" to indulge in little daydreams or fantasies, something Claire had always rolled her eyes at. But there was definitely some sweet little appeal to it – picturing the handsome man beside her calling her pet names, or putting his hand on her knee. Being able to lean over and touch him.

Before long she could see herself lifting the loose shirt up and flicking a hardened nipple, smirking coquettishly as Hope would brush her hand away, before she'd move them lower towards his zipper…

Claire pretended to roll over in her sleep, curling up on the seat and hugging one of her legs. Her face felt warm, and not from the sun beating down through the window. Goddess above. How long had she been staring? How fast did her thoughts jump to that? Fang would be roaring with laughter if she could see her now. Damned Pulsian – it was probably her old whispers of "imagine doing this" that corrupted her. She shut her eyes and breathed, willing her thoughts to come back to reality before her body began to react.

Neither had ever had such a long drive along the coast. Hardly a word was said, with Hope focusing on the road and Claire pretending to rest. The only stop they made was at a take-away, ordering a pair of indulgent coffee frappe's.

"Drive through okay?" he asked.

"You bet."

He was glad, having fended off visions of her sliding onto his lap and tasting her lips for the last two miles. He wasn't sure he'd be able to stand up right away if she had preferred going inside.

Claire was relieved, too. After stretching and glancing towards the backseat she was gone again, drowning in vivid images of Hope's angular face between her naked thighs. She cursed Fang, for always nudging her on nights out and whispering naughty fantasies. She cursed the water bottle he kept sipping from for letting her see his tongue flick across his lips. And she cursed her panties, which were uncomfortably hot and damp from her fantasies.

They sipped their drinks as if they were salvation – iced coffee, whipped cream and chocolate sauce, come to rescue them. There was something safe and familiar about sharing take away caffeine between them, both of them chiding themselves. Claire telling herself that Hope was a good man, and all those sensible thoughts she ought to remember about keeping good friends and such. All while Hope gave himself a similar speech, followed with how she had gotten the nickname "Lightning," and how much she could hurt him if she wanted to.

"Thank Etro for coffee," she sighed and it made him smile.

"Been tired lately, right?" he asked, glancing over. Claire had popped the top off and gulped a mouthful, leaving her lip foamy with cream. The urge to lean over and taste it was insane, even if it meant letting go of the wheel and careening off the road.

"Oh, yeah, sorry… must've slept all afternoon." Claire was wrestling her libido in – one carefree smile and she was prepared to climb into his seat and leave a clear bite mark on his neck. 'Mine,' she'd growl, before grabbing the worn collar and ripping.

"Don't worry about it – it's a holiday, right?" He shook his head, more to clear the images from his mind. The frothy cream looked too much like something else, leaving his erection twitching against his jeans.

"Still, can't have been much fun." Oh, fun – that would involve parking beneath a tree at the side of the road and letting her explore what else he's been hiding in that formal uniform.

"Relax – still got a weekend ahead, right?"

"Right."

'I'm in so much trouble _,_ ' they thought.

Three hours driving felt like a dozen, thanks mostly to the sun vanishing behind some rain clouds and leaving everything so much darker. It was only mid evening when they finally arrived, Serah running down the driveway to hug her sister and usher them in. Snow was there, all grins and offers to help, but Claire insisted her tiny rucksack was fine. She almost didn't trust him to just carry it – she could see it being flung across his shoulder with enough speed to break something. And after the car trip she needed to sit down. She felt sticky and hot and yearning for a shower, but she was willing to settle with some time alone in her guest room. Maybe masturbating would finally settle her body down and put an end to her lurid thoughts – she had spent far too long wondering if Hope was cut or uncut. Thicker or slimmer. If his hair was silver there, too.

"I've just got to visit the bathroom," she told Serah quietly, relieved that Snow and Hope were still locking up the car and bringing up the rear. "Let me help with dinner?"

"Pft, no way – we thought we'd order pizza and have an easy night in. You must be exhausted. You came straight from work, right?"

"I changed, first."

"Mm, I didn't think they changed your uniform. Do what you've got to do, then come look at the menus."

Etro bless her sister, Claire thought.

* * *

Etro bless showers, she later thought, stretching beneath a torrent of hot water. She was at her physical peak and yet she felt exhausted – drained like she couldn't remember. Claire drizzled body wash on her arms and lathered up, looking forward to climbing into bed, even a strange one. Serah and Snow's guest rooms were modest little things, but they were comfortable. She had dropped off her bag, admired what looked like a comfortable mattress, and then locked herself in the bathroom at the end of the hall. Within minutes she had pushed her shorts and panties off, sank down to the ground and was playing with herself. Not what she had expected she'd be doing when she left – sitting on the cold tiles of Serah's bathroom, toes wiggling and legs shaking, but her body cried out for some damned release.

Then there was dinner, where the tired Claire sat and nibbled greasy pizza while trying not to glare at Snow's antics. But Serah was happy – that was clear for anyone to see, and that's all that mattered to her. And Hope was… well, Hope, making up for her lack of input. He used longer words than she would, but he kept up with any conversation just fine.

"He's a bright man," Serah whispered when the boys stood up and took the empty boxes out.

"He's a good guy," Claire had nodded.

"So, are you two…?"

She didn't finish the question, and Claire didn't answer, choosing instead to smile and stand up.

"I'm spent," she said. "Don't want to be rude, but I need a shower and an early night."

Part of her felt bed for leaving Hope to the mercy of Snow and Serah's prodding, but the hot shower was more than making up for her guilt. She rinsed her hair and skimmed over her mons, still tingling from her earlier activities. She'd been quick and desperate with herself, and just thinking about it was dangerous, if only because it made her think of the torrent of fantasies that led her there.

She finished up and shut off the taps, wrapping a bath sheet around her pale body and stepping out of the stall. Claire felt refreshed, but her muscles were still calling for her bed. She padded out of the bathroom, knocking on the door opposite hers to see if Hope had escaped the happy couple yet.

"Bathroom's free," she called, before crossing over to her door and slipping inside.

She froze, walking into a lithe, toned, naked back. Hope's hands were at his jeans, already pushing them down and giving her a glimpse of his backside before he jerked them back up in surprise.

"Ah… whoops." He was stammering, his cheeks turning darker. She thought they were, anyway. She was suddenly developing tunnel vision. "Snow said this was my room, and-"

"It's my room," she said simply, pulling her towel tighter around her body and staring. Pale, silver hair brushed across her chest and down to his navel. His jeans were still undone, held up by his clenching hands. Her mouth went a little dry and the tiny hint of flesh that peeked between the zippers.

"I… see that now." He swallowed and her eyes followed that bobbing Adam's apple again. He was staring at her and the damp towel that clung to her curves. A tingling shot through her.

"Was just in the shower," she hummed, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. A silly thing to say and she knew it, but she didn't quite care enough.

"You missed a spot."

For a second or two, nothing happened. And then slowly, carefully, Hope leaned forward toward her chest. Claire stared as his tongue flicked out, catching a drop of water that was slowly making its way down towards her cleavage. Her skin burned from the contact – a fiery trail that slid down and settled inside the pit of her stomach.

Something snapped – something that was stretched way too long and tight, because she was sure she was growling when she wound her damp fingers through those silver tresses. It didn't matter a damn – she felt him settle his hands on her naked bum, squeezing and pulling, dumping fuel on her fire.

Claire didn't loosen her towel – she pulled it open with a flourish, bundling it up and throwing it towards the corner of the room. Immediately afterwards she was biting her lip to keep from mewling, feeling Hope's lips dancing and skimming across her raw nipples. For twenty five minutes that day, sitting in his passenger seat, she had imagined playing with his hair while he worshiped her breasts. But now it was just teasing her. It was cruel and unfair and nowhere near enough, and she told him so by lifting her foot and pushing his jeans down his legs.

"I want you," she heard him breathe before he hissed, arching against her as she wrapped her hand around his hardened cock. Gone was the impulse to study him, tease him, trace him with her fingers and lips and study his anatomy. Claire could tell enough with a few experimental pumps. Hope was warm and hard, and wet with arousal for her. The rest could wait until after they were done, she thought, pushing him back against her bed and sliding her knees over his thighs.

"Show me," Claire hissed, settling against his lap, feeling his hardness press against her slippery core. She didn't need to lift herself up – he did it for her, bringing himself to rest against her opening lips. Claire sank down around him – her own eagerness as much as his guiding movements. She collapsed into his shoulder, legs trembling, toes and fingers curling as he filled her up.

"Oh, fucking… fuck-!"

Claire leaned back and watched, taking in the sight of Hope's breathless face, his eyes dancing across her blushing breasts and moving back up towards her eyes. She never expected to hear Hope Estheim swear, but she wanted to hear more of it. Now, for her, _because of_ her.

"You haven't shown me, yet," she whispered, settling against his damp thighs and feeling him twitch inside her pussy. His fingers slid up the back of her neck, something she decided she wanted infinitely more of, before he brought her down to kiss her lips.

He'd fantasied about what she'd taste like, but nothing he could have come up with could compare with her tongue brushing across his teeth.

"I'll have to change that," he sighed when they parted, lips wet and swollen, hands moving to her bum where he squeezed and held her. And then he moved, sinking his prick in and out of her aching core, and Claire draped herself against his shoulder with a sigh. She had nothing to compare this with – nothing that had come before. As for after…

She closed her eyes and burrowed her face into his chest, throwing everything she had in taking Hope inside her body. Already her orgasm was licking at the edges of her being. Claire tightened her arms around his neck and began cursing softly – a mantra of swears and his name and asking for more, wanting to take all of him inside her.

They had lots of time for after, she decided, feeling Hope's lips skimming her ear and neck and whispering how much he admired her. Lots and lots of time.


End file.
